The size of a house cat
small enough to fit in your hands
no bigger than a white cub in the winter.
I remember being alone in that wild:
dark, vast, and all,
my breath - with fear - depleted.
I remember trying to shout
with my small lungs,
no greater than a cry against a full room.
(some would call it cute)
And though it could barely harm,
it was still enough
to fill the air and unfold courage.
What can scare a grown tiger?
When neither death could do it,
nor broken limbs, nor threats, nor being stuck in the bogs.
Thank You for remembering me,
no matter what the cost may be,
I know I may not be greater than a cub in the snow.
But I know what I must stand for
and my lungs, my hands, my heart
will carry me forward, warm and proud.
I have no doubt anymore
of what I am made of
nor what I must endure:
to become
something whole
and greater and fun.
I know
what made You what You are
is that You are always there when it turns.


Penned by my hand on the 6th of Glacian, in the year 1001 AF.